Chapter 23
Daniel
Ore looks good in white,he thought. Daniel was trying to concentrate on welcoming everyone onto the boat but he found himself instead mentally tracking Ore’s whereabouts as the guests mingled on the deck. He held himself back from walking over to her, redoubling the effort when she looked over at him and offered up that brilliant smile. Instead he nodded a hello and busied himself at the helm. It was also a useful tactic for avoiding Agatha – he hadn’t figured out quite yet how to navigate that situation. Luckily for him, her hot pink dress made it easy to keep tabs on her and avert his gaze as needed.
‘I didn’t think you would be taking us out today?’ It was Chuck, standing in front of him with his hands stuffed into the deep pockets of his cargo shorts.
‘Um, yes, sorry, I thought I’d leave Dudley to it. Makes more sense than switching him out.’ Daniel kept his voice even. He was getting better at the whole ‘half-truths’ thing.
‘Hmm, yes I suppose so.’ Chuck didn’t sound convinced, and Daniel avoided eye contact by fiddling with the levels in front of him. ‘And you’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain someone joining us on board today?’ Chuck raised an eyebrow and Daniel’s composure began to slip.
‘No, sir, I um … I just thought that …’ he fumbled, and Chuck slapped him on the back with a chuckle.
‘Don’t worry, Wilsons, your secret’s safe with me. I don’t blame you at all; she’s a pretty specimen, that’s for sure, and dare I say the pair of you would … make a lot of sense together.’ Daniel understood that Chuck was trying out some ‘man-to-man’ camaraderie, but the leer of his gaze as he looked over to Ore stoked a wave of rage in Daniel. He was also attuned to the subtle implications that came with Chuck saying that they ‘made a lot of sense’. They were the only two black people on this boat, after all.
‘I’m not sure what you mean, sir.’ Daniel decided to play dumb.
‘Of course you don’t, Wilsons,’ Chuck said with a wink. ‘Anyway, anything I should know that came out of yesterday’s interviews?’
‘No, sir, everyone was very discreet.’ It was true: nobody had really said anything of importance to Ore, but even if they had, Daniel felt less and less sure he would be feeding back to Chuck as he had originally intended to.
‘Good to hear.’ Chuck stood for a moment, as if he had something else to add, and then turned and walked back over to his guests.
Daniel peeked over to see Ore standing with Claude to one side. She was smiling and speaking animatedly whilst Claude stood stony-faced. Daniel bristled, but he had a job to do: getting the boat to the island in time for Carlos and the rest of the crew to set up their barbecue. Besides, Claude wouldn’t dare do anything in broad daylight with everyone around him like this. Daniel comforted himself with that thought ashe steered the boat away from theThalassaand into open water.
Once on the waves, Daniel relaxed a little, as the sound of the wind in his ears and the sun on his face reminded him what he was here for. On mega yachts like Chuck’s it was easy to forget you were even at sea. Sometimes he missed the early days of his career, back when he was up on deck all day, mucking in, outside, with the sea air both comforting and exhausting him. These days, he often spent the entire day sat inside the wheelhouse, separated from the breeze by a thick pane of glass.
He caught shards of laughter and conversation from the deck, where the guests were mostly leaning against the railings, holding drinks, chatting happily. Ore had her back to him, looking out at sea, the hulk of Claude by her side, standing a little too close. They didn’t seem to be talking to each other. The loose linen of Ore’s shirt rippled and Daniel thought of the fairy tern, a delicate white seabird with piercing dark eyes. Claude, in his mud-coloured cargo trousers and khaki T-shirt, embodied something more predatory. Daniel felt the same helpless distress he did when he watched what documentary narrators called the law of the jungle.
He peeled his eyes away and tried to focus on the horizon. A flit of pink across his eyeline caught his attention and he glanced over to see Agatha, uncharacteristically giggling at a joke from one of the old men. He wasn’t sure which one it was; he presumed he was someone who had something that Agatha wanted. In the brief time he’d known her, it was clear she wasn’t someone who wasted time with unbeneficial flattery. Suddenly she looked over, and Daniel’s heart began beatingwith a surge of panic. As their eyes locked, he chastised himself for getting caught staring. What if she misinterpreted it as some kind of flirtatious exchange? Before he looked away, he caught a glimpse of something like triumph in her eyes as she snaked her hand up the old man’s arm. This was a game for her, just what Daniel had feared.
He checked the coordinates for the island. They were making good time with the wind behind them. Focusing on the waves once again, another movement caught his attention. A khaki-clad arm in the midst of white. Ore was doubled over, her seasickness apparently not ‘kwelled’, and Claude was rubbing her back. Daniel had to fight the instinct to leave the wheel and drag Claude away from her. His reaction was so visceral, it took him by surprise, and when he looked down his knuckles were paling around the wheel.
Just then one of the stewardesses – Nicole, he thought her name was, a sturdy woman with a mop of tight auburn curls – rushed over to Ore. As she unclasped her from Claude’s grip and walked her off the deck inside, Daniel felt himself calm. The predator interrupted just in time.
Ore didn’t resurface for the rest of the short journey. Daniel slowed the boat as they approached the island and Oscar, the deckhand, helped him drop the anchor. Rather ridiculously, they would now have to get the dinghy in the water to get everyone to shore. The third and final seafaring Russian doll.
‘I’m assuming you have experience with this kind of vessel?’ he asked Oscar. Daniel was a little embarrassed to admit that he had barely interacted with any of the junior crew since he’d been on board, so his question sounded overly formal.
‘Yes, sir, of course. I used to drive my father’s bowrider everysummer’.Of course you did, thought Daniel, taking note of Oscar’s perfectly tousled hair and almost alarmingly white teeth. He had to remind himself, often, just how much of the world of yachting was rich kids looking for a couple of summers’ worth of pocket money, before they turned in their polo shirts for tailored suits. He was the anomaly.
‘Right, great, let’s get the first load of guests on board then.’
Agatha strolled over to Daniel as he was talking to Oscar. ‘Is there space for Dickie and I, Captain Wilsons?’ She cocked her head to one side, a smug smile on her face and an arm linked through the old man’s.
‘Are you trying to get us preferential treatment, Aggy?’ Dickie chuckled, and Agatha joined in, although hers was shallow and, to Daniel, unconvincing.
‘Of course, Oscar, would you help Mr …’ Daniel’s mind went blank.
‘Greenam,’ Agatha said empathetically after a moment, as though wanting to catch Daniel out. Presumably Richard Greenam was the sort of name you should just know, in Agatha’s mind. The kind of high-net-worth individual she made it her business to acquaint herself with.
‘Mr Greenam, if you’d like to make your way over to the dinghy.’ He bowed his head and gestured towards the galley. He could feel Agatha’s gaze trained on him, willing him to look up, but he didn’t until they had gone. After them the tall Scandinavian man, ‘Mr Dolph’, and the Middle Eastern guy, who everyone just called ‘Ousman’, clambered into the dinghy. A thumbs up from Oscar and they were motoring off towards the shore.
Daniel was aware that Claude was hanging back, and turned to him. ‘I’m sure there is room for one more, sir.’
The grey eyes were unblinking, and Daniel felt a shiver run down his spine as they inspected his face.
After a beat too long, in which Claude held his stare, he finally replied, ‘It is OK. I will wait for the next transfer.’ Daniel could not place his accent. German perhaps, though his W’s didn’t sound like V’s; then again, maybe that was just something they exaggerated in World War Two films.
